


Red

by Selkies_song



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Animal Abuse, Asexual Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Manipulation, Equestrian, Established Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Gay Shiro (Voltron), Gen, Horse Racing, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkies_song/pseuds/Selkies_song
Summary: When Haggar and Zarkon bring Keith home from the orphanage, he thinks he has lucked out. Not only would they allow him to keep the chestnut thoroughbred mare that his father gave him, they also seemed supportive of his dream to become a jockey.By the time he realizes their true intentions, he finds himself trapped in a battle that he's bound to eventually lose.AKA Obligatory modern equestrian world Voltron AU because I can't get the idea of Keith being an absolute speed junkie in the saddle out of my head





	1. The Other Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I'm rusty a.f. don't hate me  
> 2\. I have a terrible track record for finishing fics, don't hate me  
> 3\. Might add tags as I go

The track was bustling. Racing season had only just begun and with it came the flock of retiree birds and people with more money than they knew what to do with. 

Lance didn’t have the social decorum to feel out of place with his patched, brown hooded jacket, tattered sneakers, and jeans. He rarely found the motivation to upgrade from “casual” to “business casual” on the best of days, and in his mind, horses and fancy clothes did not go together. He frowned as he peered through the throng of brightly colored blouses and hats of the meandering masses, looking for a familiar face. Adam had said he’d be by the rail in grandstand A. He wished they could have met over at the food trucks, instead.

“Lance! Over here!” A waving arm caught his attention. There was specs, calling him over, one arm hung around the green-painted railing with a pamphlet tucked between his fingers. It took a few more seconds of weaving in and out of currents of people to make his way over.

 

“You’re late,” Adam quipped, though he was grinning. “What took you?”

“Traffic, mostly. That, and not really wanting to come,” Lance admitted, dramatically draping himself over the fence. Bored blue eyes peered down at the track below. “Why’d you want to meet here, anyways?”

“Shiro’s prodigy is in the next race,” Adam informed him, unphased by the other’s unenthused attitude. “I’m here to provide moral support.”

Lance grunted in understanding as he watched the proceedings down below. The jockeys were mounted up already and heading for the starting box. He squinted, spotting Shiro’s familiar, broad-chested form. One sleeve of his black button-up shirt was tied below the shoulder: apparently he’d chosen to forego the prosthetic, today. His left hand meanwhile held the bridle of a nice looking chestnut horse, and he seemed to be giving some last minute advice to the lithe teen on its back. It was hard to discern any details from this distance, although he thought he could see some unruly, dark strands of hair spilling out from beneath the crimson red helmet.

“Prodigy, huh?” Lance crinkled his nose. He could never get over how high they kept their stirrups in the racing world; it looked downright uncomfortable. “Don’t see what the big deal is. Isn’t it more about the horse than the rider in these things?”

“It’s a team effort,” Adam informed him. “Shiro is always saying it’s about the rider trusting the horse and staying out of its way. And I guess the bond between that kid and his horse is something else. He’s already managed to place and win in several races; uses his own horse, too. It’s pretty unheard of for someone his age.”

They were all lined up by now, crammed into the starting gate stalls like little sardines. Hardly any of the animals were still; they seemed to fidget, tossing their heads, ears pinned, anxious in the confined space. After only a couple of seconds, the gates burst open, and the horses spilled out like a flood from a dam. Thundering hooves drowned out the murmur of the crowd. Overhead, an announcer went about his commentary, prattling off ridiculous names and stating the blatantly obvious, embellishing every word as if afraid to allow even a moment of silence in, and Lance found it difficult to pay attention to the droning voice. He’d seen hundreds of these, and they all felt just as dull as the last.

The “prodigy” stayed steady, hovering just behind the leader’s mount, his steed seeming to float along effortlessly as they rounded the first corner. The announcer kept saying “Red” this and “Red” that, so Lance had to assume that was the horse’s name. 

He would say it was a bit too straight forward, but then…

“What do you say, Lance?” Adam asked with a wry smile. “Think you’ll ever take Blue for a spin like that?”

“Nope. Ol’ Blue and I will stick to reigning, thank you very much. We don’t have a death wish like these weirdos.”

Adam laughed. “Yeah; you pick a discipline that basically shuns the use of helmets and you think these guys are the ones with the death wish?”

“Shut up.” 

The racers rounded the last corner and started into the final stretch. Lance was beginning to think Shiro’s “prodigy” was going to hang out in second place until the very end, but suddenly the horse lengthened its stride. Unlike most of the pack, the boy wasn’t wildly swinging a crop around to get his mount to give everything in those last few hundred meters, the horse seemed to be doing it of her own free will. Suddenly they were pulling ahead of the pack, and as they flew past where Lance and Adam were watching, Lance could have sworn he saw a cocky grin on the teen’s face under the layer of dirt. The announcer was going NUTS about the upset, as the distance between the teen and second place grew wider and wider.

“AND RED TAKES THE WIN BY TWO LENGTHS! THEY DID IT!”

Adam cheered enthusiastically, his expression awash with pride. “C’mon, let’s head down to the winner’s circle!”

It took them a solid ten minutes to snake their way down, and even then they had to squeeze their way through a crowd of people and wait for photographers to finish snapping photos before Lance finally got a good look at the mysterious teen that’d caused such a rukous. 

Damnit, why’d he have to be hot?!

The boy was a bit shorter than him but looked to be about the same age, the sharp features of his face framed in a mane of long, dark hair. Shiro was grinning ear to ear as Adam went in for a congratulatory hug, but the teen’s expression was far more subdued, even as his mount turned her head to nip playfully at his shoulder. 

“Oh, hey Lance! Glad you could make it!” Shiro greeted once he and Adam had broken apart. 

“Hey, yourself. Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” He took a step back, to clap a big hand over the jockey’s shoulder. “This is Keith,” he introduced. “Keith, this is Lance, a longtime friend of mine and Adam’s.”

Lance grinned and offered a handshake. Keith regarded him with guarded, dark eyes for a long moment before he hesitantly accepted. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same, man. Same,” Lance drawled. “Nice riding.” _Nice mullet_ he wanted to add, but bit the comment back. 

Keith simply nodded, before turning his attention back to Shiro. “I’m going to go get Red cleaned up.”

“Alright Keith, I’ll catch up with you in a bit. Good job, today.” 

A wan smile. “Thanks.”

Lance watched the other boy retreat, leading his horse towards another building in the distance. “Jeez,” he muttered, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “He just won. You’d think he’d be a little more excited.”

Shiro chuckled. “I’m sure he is, in his own way, but he’s not terribly comfortable around big crowds like this.”

“Well, okay then. We provided the moral support,” Lance hedged over the droning of the announcer and the thundering hooves that meant the next round had started. “Can we hit the town, now?”

“Not quite,” Adam replied with some empathy. “We gotta wait for Shiro. Besides, the movie isn’t for another few hours.”

Lance groaned.

Shiro chuckled. “Alright, alright; just let me finish up here and make sure Keith’s all set. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Lance blinked. “Wait, what? Is he coming?”

Adam shook his head. “No, he already turned us down. Said his folks have stuff to do tonight after they take Red home. We’ll be meeting up with the Holts and Hunk though.”

That news brought a grin to Lance’s face. “All right! Haven’t seen them since we got off on summer break; sounds great!”

 

 

Keith remembered the first time his father had taken him to a track.

Everything about it had fascinated him; the cheering crowds, the smell of hay and dirt and leather, the cloud of dust that had flown from the hooves as they thundered past.

He remembered watching the leader of the pack, her coat glistening red in the sun as she made that final stretch. She and her rider had been going so fast, he had half expected them to sprout wings and take to the air.

For a long time after that, he pestered his father endlessly about it. He wanted to be a jockey; he wanted to feel what it was like to fly. For a couple of years, he took weekly riding lessons, his father expecting the obsession to die as Keith grew older.

It never did.

His instructors were enthusiastic. The boy seemed to be growing with a light, lithe frame, and got along well with every mount they sat him on. He was a natural. 

When his father surprised him with a chestnut thoroughbred filly of his own on his 12th birthday, it was quite possibly the happiest day of Keith’s young life.

A fire took his father from him four months later.

The system had tried so hard to get him to leave it all behind, but he refused. When they put him in a car to take him to the orphanage, he had flung himself out of the vehicle halfway down the road and ran straight back to her. It was a miracle he walked away from that incident with only a bit of road rash.

They were ultimately left with little choice but to make arrangements to keep the horse at a sort of sanctuary close by; it was the only way they could get him to cooperate. He was warned multiple times that prospective parents might not want to adopt a horse as well as a child. Several families tried to adopt just him, only to bring him back days later. It really didn’t take much to get them to give up on him and bring him back. He didn’t care, so long as he could be with Red.

So when a couple finally came along that seemed supportive of his aspirations and agreed to take in the mare as well, it seemed like a win-win situation. 

It had been a few years since then.

It was a good day. Winning or placing was always a good day. It meant a few nights of tentative peace. It meant Red was relatively safe until next time. 

Keith methodically ran a soft brush down her fur, working out the sweat marks left behind by her tack, letting himself meditate with the repetitive motions. Red let out a heavy sigh, enjoying the attention.

Most pros had grooms that dealt with this part, but he chose to do it himself. Any excuse he had to take his time before and after a race, without Zarkon or Haggar or their biological son, Lotor, breathing down his neck. As long as he kept winning, as long as he kept being profitable to them, they would leave him alone. More importantly, they would leave Red alone. 

Shiro’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hey Keith, you all set?” 

He liked Shiro. He was only a few years older than him, but he radiated a sort of calm maturity that made Keith feel safe. Maybe he’d had to grow up too fast after the accident that had taken his arm and left a scar across the bridge of his nose, but he felt like an old soul. Keith tried not to let his attachment show, though; like with most things, he was very careful about exposing anything to his adoptive family that could be used against him down the road.

“Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” Shiro smiled, but there was some regret in his eyes. “Too bad you can’t join us. Maybe next time?” 

“I’ll do my best. Have fun.”

“Thanks, Keith. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for training, alright? Make sure you get a good meal in tonight.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He stalled for another half hour in the stables, tending to Red, before leading her back outside. It was as long as he dared to put it off. As expected, his guardians were waiting in the loading area, trailer already set up, looking as though they were growing agitated by the wait. Everything seemed to fade out around them; he wasn’t even aware of the sun’s warmth anymore. When they were in the picture, there was nothing else, and the two people he might have considered his friends and allies were long gone.

He was on his own. Nobody knew anything about the sort of world he entered when he left this one.

No words were spoken between them as Keith brought Red over and loaded her on. No ‘congratulations’ or pats on the back. Just quiet, methodical work to load up and go. 

Once home, he took his time again, making sure she had clean bedding, her own dinner, and plenty of water available, before finally going inside. As per his ritual, he showered first thing. Haggar found the smell of horses offensive, and if he waited too long to rid himself of it, she would become hostile. Then, he took the meager, long cooled plate they had set aside for him for dinner. On the menu tonight: a few bits of broccoli and a shriveled piece of overcooked chicken breast. He hadn’t had breakfast or lunch.

It was true that jockeys had to maintain a low weight--unreasonably low, really-- but it hadn’t taken him long to realize that his new ‘family’ latched onto that as a good excuse to practically starve him. 

Better him than Red.

Bone tired, he went back upstairs to his room and collapsed onto the bed. In the minutes that he stared up at the ceiling to wait for sleep to take him, he found himself wondering what movie the others had gone to see. Had they gone to a restaurant for dinner? Were they still out on the town, having fun, being teenagers? 

He’d wanted this life. There was no greater feeling in the world than the wind biting at his face as Red flew beneath him, the blur of colors to either side, the thrill that left him breathless each and every time. For those few minutes he was free and nothing could touch him.

This was what he wanted.

If he could just keep winning for a few more years and get himself out of this place...maybe then he wouldn’t feel so empty for all the rest of the minutes in the day.


	2. Of Food and Kitten Snores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Very brief needle stick

Keith was up early; the sun was just barely creeping over the treeline as he headed outside and made his way across the yard to the little barn where Red was kept. Shiro was scheduled to stop by in a couple of hours to put them through some guided training. Once Shiro was gone, he would continue on his own for the rest of the day, usually a combination of working on Red's endurance and then on his own level of fitness so the mare could have a break. It was a non-stop process, and one he was mostly thankful for because it meant he had an excuse to avoid his “family”. 

It was a routine he was sure they were satisfied with, as well; they could pretend he didn’t exist while benefiting from the prize money he brought in with his success.

When he walked into the barn, he paused, frowning. Something wasn’t right. Typically, Red would be waiting for him, her head poking out of her dutch door window and ears perked, nickering impatiently for her breakfast. 

She wasn’t there.

Instantly feeling anxious, he moved forward and looked into her stall. She was lying down, covered in shavings from rolling. Her breathing was heavy, and she kept casting accusing glares at her belly.

“Shit,” Keith whispered. Grabbing her halter, he rushed to open the door and move over to slip it on her head. “What’s wrong, girl?” A quick glance around and he felt a stone settle in his gut; she hadn’t passed any manure overnight, and there was plenty of evidence that she’d done a lot of restless pawing and pacing around in her stall.

He swallowed thickly, trying not to panic. He’d seen other horses go through little bouts of colic like this before, but never Red, and it _terrified_ him. 

He clipped a lead rope onto her halter and clucked at her to get her to her feet. After a long moment of reluctance, she finally hauled herself up, her ears pinned in discomfort.

“I know girl, I’m sorry,” he murmured, patting her neck. “Hang on.”

With fumbling hands, he dug his cell from his pocket and pulled up Shiro’s number. It rang once, twice, three times, before the ring cut off and Adam’s sleepy voice came through the speaker. 

“Keith? What’s up?”

“Hey, is Shiro there?” Keith asked, trying to keep the frantic worry from his tone. 

“He’s in the shower; is everything okay?”

“I think Red’s colicking; it’s...she’s not freaking out or anything, but something’s definitely not right.”

“Okay; hang on a sec.” He heard the phone get set down. There was a muffled exchange of voices in the background before Adam came back. “Keith?”

“Yeah.”

“Shiro will be right over once he’s out and dressed; just hang tight and hand walk her in the meantime. Don’t give her anything to eat.”

“Okay; thanks, Adam.”

 

Those twenty minutes were the longest Keith could remember in quite some time. It was a small comfort that Red didn’t seem to be doing any worse by the time Shiro pulled in with his black pickup, but he still couldn’t quite hide the worry on his face as the older man crossed the yard to join them. He had clearly hurried over; the unbuzzed, thicker strip of hair along the top of his head was even darker than normal and weighted down with water.

“So, what’s going on?” he asked, studying the pair of them with concerned gray eyes.

“She was down this morning. Been rolling and pacing from the looks of things, and she didn’t pass anything last night. She’s just...not herself.”

Shiro nodded. “Alright. I’ve got some banamine with me; we’ll give her a dose and see if that helps; let’s bring her in.” 

Once she was cross tied in her stall, Keith watched with carefully veiled panic as Shiro prepped a syringe and administered the shot into her neck with practiced ease. Red pinned her ears in annoyance, but otherwise stood quietly and tolerated the prodding. 

Shiro then went around and pressed his ear to her belly in different spots, listening for something. “Got some good gut sounds in there.”

Keith frowned faintly in curiosity and stepped forward. “May I?” 

Shiro smiled and stepped back to let Keith give it a try. Sure enough, there was a sort of sporadic chorus of gurgling and hisses. “Is that a good thing?” he asked, picking his head away from her to look curiously at his trainer. Shiro nodded slightly.

“There’s a bit more going on in there than normal I think, but yeah. I’m willing to bet she’s just a bit gassy. The banamine will make her more comfortable. Just don’t give her anything to eat this morning to be safe; once she passes something and seems to feel a bit better we can start her on some wet hay and work her back up to her normal intake.” 

Keith nodded, reaching to stroke her neck, tentatively allowing some of his anxiety to ease. 

“You look like you could use a day off, yourself,” Shiro remarked with some concern as he packed his stuff away. “Did you eat last night?”

“Yeah.” Not a total lie. “How was the movie?”

Shiro laughed quietly at his own expense. “I slept through most of it,” he admitted. “The others said it was good. I just couldn’t keep my eyes open once I sat down.” He looked up at his student with a thoughtful look. “Hey, since you’ve got some free time this morning, why don’t we go hit up a diner for some breakfast?”

Keith hesitated. “I don’t have any money.”

Shiro blinked, and rose an eyebrow at him. “You won, yesterday.”

“I know, but…” he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly, scrambling to think of a reasonable excuse. “My folks put whatever’s leftover from feed and lessons and insurance and stuff away in some savings account. For college or whatever.”

The other seemed to buy it. “Well, then, it’ll be my treat. C’mon; you can afford to eat a real meal. We can stop by to check up on Red after.”

With a reluctant glance at the mare, Keith let out a breath and nodded. “Alright.”

What Zarkon and Haggar didn’t know couldn’t hurt. For all they knew, they were heading for the gym. It would be fine. 

And he couldn’t deny that warm, real food sounded far too tempting to pass up. 

 

The fifteen minute drive in the truck was one of companionable silence. It was a nice change from the on-edge, threatening one of the night before, and Keith was nearly in a doze when they pulled into a little parking lot. 

“You ever been here?” Shiro asked. 

Keith shook his head. 

Unphased, the older man continued. “It’s one of my favorites. These guys do something magical with their food, I swear.”

Keith couldn’t help a small smile at that as he unbuckled and slid out of the truck. 

The inside of the diner was simple enough; the walls were sparsely decorated with framed pieces of artwork, some notably more aesthetically pleasing than others, but based on the tags beside each Keith assumed they were all by local artists. 

Most of the tables had a red-vinyl bench seat on the side against the wall, and chairs on the other. At Shiro’s invitational gesture, Keith slipped onto the bench, and Shiro settled in a chair across from him.

A larger set teen came to their table within the minute and set a menu in front of each of them. He had a kind face, with dark brown bangs that hung over a yellow strip of cloth tied around his forehead. Keith immediately felt himself drawn to the guy; warmth seemed to radiate from him.

“Shiro! Hey man, good to see you. Can I get you two some coffee this fine morning? Hm?”

“Sounds good, Hunk, thanks,” Shiro agreed with an easy grin.

“Yeah; I’ll have coffee, too,” Keith spoke up when Hunk fixed his friendly, brown-eyed gaze onto him.

“Alright, two hot coffees coming right up! Be back in a jiff.”

Keith rose an eyebrow at Shiro. “Sheesh, do you know literally everyone?”

“Seems like it sometimes, doesn’t it?” Shiro asked with a chuckle. “I come here a lot; Hunk’s family owns the place, but we actually met through Lance a while back.” 

Keith processed this in silence as Hunk returned with two mugs and a steaming pot of coffee. “Still need a minute to pick something out?” he asked while he poured. Keith startled out of his thoughts; he hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. 

Shiro chuckled. “Yeah; thanks Hunk.”

“Alrighty, I’ll be back in a few.” 

As Shiro fixed his coffee to his liking, Keith studied the menu items. He wasn’t feeling hunger pangs, exactly; he’d passed through that stage ages ago and had hit that weird, desperate ‘I could make a meal out of a box of stale crackers right now, I don’t even care’ stage of hungry.

Which made trying to pick one thing almost impossible; literally everything sounded appetizing. 

By the time Hunk came back, he still hadn’t been able to decide, but he didn’t want to ask for more time so he just blurted out the first thing he settled his eyes on at that moment; a spinach and cheese omelette with white toast. Shiro got a breakfast platter of two eggs, sausage and toast, and Hunk cheerfully promised he’d be back with their food in a bit as he collected their menus.

“...you think Red’s gonna be okay?” Keith asked quietly, fiddling with his silverware as they waited.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Shiro assured him. “She just seemed a bit uncomfortable; did you just start a different batch of hay, by any chance?”

“I think so,” Keith admitted. “We got a fresh load earlier last week.”

“That’s probably all it is.”

There was a long period of silence then, as both seemed to drift off into their own trail of thought. 

“I meant what I said yesterday, you know,” Shiro offered after a while, breaking the quiet between them. Keith glimpsed up at him, pulled from wandering thoughts.

“What you said?”

“About you joining us, next time,” Shiro elaborated with a small, knowing smile. Keith blinked in surprise. He actually had been feeling a little left out and bitter that he didn’t have a group of friends like Shiro did.

“It’s fine,” Keith finally sputtered out, averting his gaze and taking a hasty sip of his coffee.

“I know you’re busy with your training and everything, but giving yourself a break now and then is good, too. A day of fun here and there isn’t going to hurt you, I promise.”

 _'If only it was that…'_ Keith thought dismally, but he nodded to appease his trainer, wanting to drop the subject.

Thankfully, that was when Hunk showed up with their food.

Keith gaped in surprise at the massive, steaming plate that was set in front of him; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so much food in one spot, nevermind that was intended for him. Melted cheese oozed from the fold of eggs like lava from a volcano, and the part of the plate not covered by omelette was piled high with crispy, browned potatoes sprinkled with some kind of herb, and the toast had no place to call its own so it sat atop the potatoes, glistening with butter.

His mouth watered.

“There you go! Bon appetit!” Hunk told them both with a proud grin at Keith’s awestruck reaction. “Just let me know if you need anything else, alright?” 

Shiro assured him they would and thanked him as Keith sampled one of the potatoes. His genuine, wide-eyed, blissful expression at that first bite nearly sent Shiro into a fit of laughter. 

Keith had honestly never tasted something so amazing. He didn’t even know you could make something like a potato taste like this. His stomach seemed to wake at that first bite, and he had to make a conscious effort not to shovel it in, instead trying to savor the warmth and the flavors of each bite.

Shiro smiled, secretly relieved to see Keith eating so earnestly, and left the boy in peace as he started into his own breakfast. He knew full well that the nature of competing in the world of horse racing meant maintaining a low body weight in addition to being physically fit, but he worried more often than not that Keith was a little too extreme in that regard. 

He fought back another laugh when he caught the dewey eyed look of happiness on Hunk’s face from across the room; he was clearly touched by just how much Keith was enjoying the meal. 

 

The ride back to Keith’s place was almost as quiet as the previous ride had been; the only difference were the soft kitten snores of the dark haired teen as he succumbed to a food coma just as soon as Shiro pulled out of the parking lot.

 

Red was back to her impatient self when they went back into the barn, much to Keith's obvious relief. She'd passed some manure, and as Shiro helped him pull out a bucket to soak a flake of hay in, they both had to stop and laugh after she let out a long, loud fart. 

"Like I said," Shiro chuckled. "Gas."

She seemed appeased with her soggy hay, and Shiro patted Keith's shoulder on his way out. "Just check on her throughout the day; you can give her some more soaked hay in a few hours if she's still acting alright. If not, give me a call and I'll come back."

Keith nodded, relief and deep gratitude leaving a smile on his face. "Thanks, Shiro." 

The man responded with a two-fingered salute and headed out for his truck.

The warm feeling in Keith dissipated quickly in the heavy silence that followed. The heaviness only multiplied when he thought he saw Zarkon's shadowed, imposing figure in the kitchen window, watching him. 

Red needed the day off, but his break was officially over if he wanted to maintain the fragile peace. 

Time to go for a run.


	3. All in the Family

“We’ve gotta make a quick stop on the way to the facility, if you don’t mind.”

Shiro’s steady voice cut through whatever murky thoughts had been stirring in Keith’s head. He glanced over from his spot in the leather passenger seat of his trainer’s black pickup. “It’s fine with me,” he said belatedly. “What’s up?”

“Just checking on a horse that was injured a few days ago at the McClain ranch. Should be a quick enough visit.”

A few minutes of winding, back-country roads later, and they pulled into a long dirt driveway that was flanked by acres of fenced off pastures. Cows, some a soft beige, some a mix of black and white patches, paused in their grazing to curiously watch the unfamiliar truck roll by.

Shiro parked by the door of a large morton barn towards the back of the property and hopped out, bringing a small bag of supplies with him. Keith followed suit, unwilling to sit in the stuffy cab for too long. They were met by an older gentleman just inside who seemed happy to see Shiro, and the two were soon busy examining a wound on the back of a gray gelding’s leg.

It didn’t take long for Keith to grow restless, and he wandered back to the entrance to peer out at the expansive farm. A large green tractor was parked just to his right, beside a trailer that held a large water tank; he suspected they used the tank to fill the water troughs in the distant pastures. There was a gentle, grassy slope in front of him that leveled out for a bit, before continuing upwards to the edge of a forest. An outdoor arena had been built on that level ground, and he was mildly surprised to see that it was currently occupied.

He watched, intrigued, as the pair flew across the length of the ring at a dead sprint before the horse planted its hind legs and slid to an incredible stop, dirt spraying to either side like water under a motor boat. Immediately, the horse backed up about seven paces, came to a halt, and then began to spin dizzyingly fast, pivoting almost perfectly on one back leg about four times, stopping, then spinning the other direction. 

 

Keith was barely conscious of walking closer, mesmerized. After the spinning, they were off again, loping in a figure eight shape around the arena, and Keith recognized the flying lead changes they performed in the center of the ring. 

Before he knew it, he was at the fence, leaning on the middle rail as he watched the two work. He’d never had an opportunity to watch much of the western discipline, and he had to admit, it looked a lot faster and lot more fluid than he’d expected. Given how large and bulky western saddles were, especially compared to the tiny thing he was used to riding in, “fast” and “western” just never seemed to belong in the same sentence.

He could tell the horse was well trained, and that she and this rider had put in countless hours perfecting each and every command. It didn’t hurt that she was absolutely striking; her fur looked almost silver, with darker points on her face and all four legs that matched the shade of her mane and tail. 

He’d heard of blue roans, but this was the first time he’d seen one in person.

They finally came to a halt at the center of the ring, and the horse’s rider leaned down to pat her neck before looking up at the one-man audience he’d gained. 

“Pretty slick, isn’t she?” he asked with a sly grin.

Keith jolted at being addressed by that familiar voice, and winced when his head smacked the top rung of the fence above him.

“Lance?!”

“The one and only~” He dismounted and sauntered over, his horse following behind him. Keith wasn’t the greatest at discerning one breed from another at a quick glance, but he guessed she was some sort of quarter horse. A big quarter horse. She easily had a few inches of height and bulk on Red. “I take it Shiro’s here for Pop, then.”

Keith was still scrambling to process all of this new information. When he’d met the taller teenager at the track, he just assumed he was some random kid that was there sightseeing or--based on how uninterested he’d acted--just dragged along and totally uninterested in horses and the like. He never guessed he’d see him again so soon, much less riding a horse of his own. 

“So hey, I was wondering something,” Lance interrupted the paler teen’s mind explosion as he leaned casually on the fence. “You must live around here, right? So how come I’ve never seen you at school?”

Keith blinked a few times, needing a few seconds to process the change of topic. “I’m homeschooled,” he explained finally. “Easier to fit in training, that way.”

“Wow. You’re really serious about this stuff, aren’t you?” Lance murmured, his tone of voice more intrigued than flirty, now. “So like...do you do anything aside from racing?”

“Um…” Keith felt put on the spot, and reached up nervously to scratch at the back of his neck. “Not...exactly.”

“Afraid it’ll mess up your mojo, or what?”

Keith couldn’t explain the prickly irritation that started coiling in his stomach. He got the distinct feeling that this Lance kid could see through all of his bullshit, and it made him extremely nervous. “Just never came up, alright? Why’s it matter to you, anyway?”

Lance quirked an eyebrow at him. “Just curious, man. Do you enjoy it?”

That question was so innocently asked, it caught him off guard. Keith hesitated a moment too long before he answered. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be doing it, otherwise, now would I?” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

Lance smirked at him. “Coulda’ fooled me considering how you acted after you won, the other day.” 

Keith scowled at the ground between them. It was more complicated than simply ‘enjoying’ it or not, but that wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with anybody, nevermind some kid he barely knew.

Lance just laughed at the other’s sour expression. “Easy, killer, I’m just messing with you. Hey, I should introduce you.” He gestured to the mare behind him. “This here’s ol’ Blue.”

Keith relaxed a little, though his arms stayed crossed in front of him and his chin remained tilted slightly downwards like a child that had just been scolded. He snorted slightly as his eyes rose up to look at the mare’s dark face. “Clever name.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lance shot back, though he was grinning. “Where’s Red, anyways?”

“Back home. We’re doing simulator stuff today.”

Lance shook his head in exasperation. “Man, you racing types and your toys. You know, if you’re looking for a video game, I could recommend some that are waaaaay less expensive than that. And probably more fun.”

Keith just shrugged. “We pay Shiro for five hours a week worth of training. He decides what we do with that time. Doesn’t change what we pay him. Red was colicky yesterday so she’s getting a little break.”

Lance’s face fell, and he immediately looked contrite. “Oh, dude, sorry; it always scares the crap out me when Blue’s not feeling well. She doing better?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied, feeling a bit touched at the other’s concern and empathy, and some of the remaining tension finally seeped out of his stance. “We’re just giving her some time.”

“Well, that’s fair; Matt’s always happy to show off his latest tech, anyways. He’ll probably have more fun than you will.” 

“Matt?”

“Yeah, Matt Holt. He and Shiro are pretty tight. And his sis and I happen to be pals, too. Their dad is the founder of that big tech company in town with the simulators and stuff, and Matt works there over the summer. That place comes out with new stuff all the time.” He paused then, looking beyond Keith towards the barn below, before jerking his chin that direction. “Looks like Shiro’s all set.” 

Keith glanced back to see his trainer waving at him that they were ready to leave. “Guess I’d better go.”

“Nice visiting with ya,” Lance said in farewell. “See you around, Mullet!”

He laughed when violet-tinted eyes whipped around to give him an offended look. 

 

Shiro attempted to school his grin as Keith walked down the grassy hill to rejoin him. He’d been surprised that the teen had wandered off, but couldn’t help being pleased to find him chatting with Lance. He seemed so isolated, being homeschooled and so absorbed into his training, that it was honestly a relief to see him socializing with someone his own age.

 

He had no way of knowing that Keith was lamenting over the same thing. Shiro had connections all over the place, meanwhile the young jockey could count the people he saw on a regular basis on one hand. 

There was no helping it; Zarkon and Haggar refused to let him get a learner’s permit, so having any independence from them was completely out of the question. Their grip was just too tight. All he could do was hang in there until he was legally old enough to strike out on his own. Maybe then he could let himself breathe a little bit. 

 

The facility they pulled into was huge, with pristine landscaping and flawless sidewalks leading inside. It wasn’t the first time they’d come here, but Keith had a new appreciation for it after learning of Shiro’s personal connection with the people who worked there. He vowed to pay a little more attention this time to the people they encountered.

A brief elevator ride and a walk through several hallways brought them to brightly lit room. Mounted on the far wall was a large, flat-screen television, and bolted into the floor just in front of it was a mechanical horse. A blonde guy about Keith’s height met them halfway across the room, grinning and shaking Shiro’s hand. 

“Good to see you, Matt; I heard you made some tweaks since the last time we were here?” Shiro asked with an almost boyish grin.

Matt eagerly took him through it, prattling off stuff about design and sensors and a bunch of other technical jargon that Keith didn’t really understand. The young jockey was instead studying the way the pair interacted. Now that he knew Matt and Shiro were friends, it seemed really obvious. How had he missed it, before? 

“Well Keith, ready to give it a test run?” Matt asked with a grin, once he’d exhausted the topic of his tinkering. “It works the same, but it should be a lot more reactive.”

For his part, Keith didn’t really notice much of a difference, but then he wasn’t really interested enough to look. He climbed on, and positioned himself as if he were riding a real horse as the mechanical thing beneath him moved. The screen showed him the view from behind a horse’s head as other horses and jockeys crowded around. 

He honestly didn’t like simulation days; instead of Red’s soft fur he felt a hard shell of plastic brushing against his hands. Instead of wind against his cheeks, there was stale air that smelled of new carpeting and paint, and oiled metal machinery. The flat thundering of hooves only came from the speakers in the tv in front of him, rather than all around him, and it was practically drowned out by the mechanical sounds moving below him. Nothing about the simulations ever felt convincing to him.

Complaining wasn’t an option, though. His training could involve watching paint dry and it would still be better than spending his time alone with his adopters. 

After the session, Keith excused himself to visit the restroom, but he paused on his way back, overhearing Matt and Shiro’s conversation.

“Dad’s really optimistic; we’re just waiting for approval to test it out, assuming you still want to volunteer?” Matt sounded pretty excited, although there was a thread of worry in his tone that Keith did not overlook.

“Absolutely,” came Shiro’s unhesitant response. “I trust you both. And if this works, it means making a lot of people’s lives better.”

“We’re expecting to hear back any day; and the procedure itself should be pretty straight forward. One night in the hospital just to be safe and you should be right back to your routine the next day.”

“I’m all cleared with the medical stuff, so no hold ups there.”

“Great!”

Keith startled somewhat when he heard approaching footsteps from behind; he glanced back, and blinked, confused, when he saw what appeared to be a shorter Matt Holt walking down the hall in shorts and a green sweater. 

“Oh hey! You must be the jockey Matt said was coming today.”

“Uh...yeah, that’s me.” 

“Cool! You look a lot younger than I thought you would. I’m Pidge, Matt’s sister. So did you try it out already? What’d ya think of the changes?” Pidge asked eagerly.

“Oh...I, uh…” he awkwardly reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t really...think about stuff like that, when I’m riding,” he admitted. “But I guess it seemed more realistic?” he added, almost hastily when her expression fell somewhat. 

“That’s alright,” Pidge reassured him with a smile. “Matt and I don’t actually ride so it’s tough for us to know what’ll work and what won’t. Hey, maybe we can use some of your feedback to try and make some more improvements!”

Keith glanced to the side, feeling sheepish. “Uh...is there any way you could make it quieter?”

Pidge blinked at him. “Quieter?”

“Yeah...like…” Keith felt his cheeks heating. This felt like dangerous ground, and he suddenly back peddled. “Actually, nevermind...it’s stupid.”

“No, go ahead,” Pidge encouraged. “Quieter how? Like the machinery?”

He steadily focused on the wall as he nodded, half expecting her to explode. When she didn’t, he hesitantly elaborated. “The mechanical sounds kinda drown out everything else.”

She looked thoughtful, and then nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Okay! We’ll work on it. Thanks, Keith!” 

He looked at her then, openly surprised by her cheerful reaction. “Uh...yeah, no problem.”

 

 

They were about halfways back to Keith’s place before he finally worked up the courage. “...hey Shiro? What were you talking to Matt about, earlier? Something about a hospital stay?”

His trainer rose his brow somewhat. “You heard all that, huh?” he asked, not sounding too upset about it. “Well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, since I might have to take a couple days off. Matt’s father has been working on a new type of prosthetic arm, and I agreed to test it out.” 

Keith felt his own brow furrow in concern. “Sounded pretty serious.”

“Well, it’s kind of a big deal,” Shiro admitted. “If successful, it should work just like a real arm. I have to admit the science is waaaaaay beyond me, but if it works it could change thousands of lives. They’ve showed me some of the prototypes and it’s just incredible what they’ve accomplished. And the risk is pretty minimal, honestly. Worst case scenario it doesn’t work right and they have to take it off and try again. I might be a little sore, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

He pulled into the driveway and turned to smile at Keith. “So that’s it for today. Shoot me a text if you need anything or if Red starts acting off again, otherwise just take it easy and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Keith nodded, and climbed out of the truck. 

He tried not to let the oppressive silence swallow him as he watched the pickup back out and drive away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks; most of this chapter was written out ages ago but between school and life I got a little side tracked. 
> 
> I'm still trying to settle on most of the fillings to this fic sandwich lol; I have the climax already written of course, it's everything in between that I always struggle with. Hope you enjoyed!


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